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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29867796">Sifting through the wheat.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yui_Miyamoto/pseuds/Yui_Miyamoto'>Yui_Miyamoto</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tokyo Babylon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2008-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2008-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:34:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29867796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yui_Miyamoto/pseuds/Yui_Miyamoto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Subaru strongly feels the secrets that Seishirou won’t ever ask to be comforted for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sakurazuka Seishirou/Sumeragi Subaru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sifting through the wheat.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Disclaimer – Tokyo Babylon isn’t by me. Rebecca is a real group and she is one the bands used in character songs for Hokuto.<br/><br/></strong><br/>His face is unperturbed just like glass, reflecting the outside but never of the inside.<br/><br/>Mother’s voice echoes and reverberates up to the surface of his expression…<br/>…except he controls it and pushes it back down to the void inside of himself.<br/><br/>Swaying from wall to wall, a nightmare coexists side-by-side with a dream. Reality parallels that of something unreal and stuck in the middle, the tall man with an ordinary business suit holds onto the nearest wall with both of his hands for a sense of solace in purgatory. This small action is something that proves he survives…somewhere…but, at this moment, certainly not in his own world.<br/><br/>With his right hand, He smears the blood on one wall of the beige cement wall connecting to the mansion he’s just exited from. It is similar to the half moon mark over the threshold of the Jews in the Bible when the Angel of Death passed through. Only in this case, the dripping mark, hardening slowly with the gentle autumn breeze, is a warning of the End approaching faster.<br/>How prompt Tokyo always is.<br/><br/>Things have to happen in set chronological order and even a brief delay brings upon a mini chaos.<br/><br/>He turns away from the smear and faces the faint lamppost’s light that reaches his hands through the corner of the alleyway. Taking out a towel the size of a slightly damp handkerchief from his left pocket with the tips of his fingers, he wipes his hands away like a gentleman after a meal: Lightly. Skillfully. Thoroughly.<br/><br/>For a second, he stares at the towel, light blue with a checkered pattern of white and dark blue stripes. Spots of dark, dark red disturb the tender design, a reflection of the heart of its giver.<br/>Immediately, within the span of a split-second, his face hardens and becomes serene again.<br/><br/>Streets away, he hears a low siren. It is the sound of the police cars speeding their way over. He only smirks.<br/>Meticulous(ly late) as always.<br/><br/>After all, everything is just for appearance’s sake. They all play for the same team in this game.<br/><br/>His smirk fades away into thin lips once more.<br/>Reaching down to the dusty ground, he opened up his briefcase. He opens it to insert the towel and bring out his slightly chaffing leather gloves. After putting them on, he clicks the suitcase close.<br/>With a tap tap noise of his leather shoes on the pavement, the man puts his right hand into his pocket and holds his briefcase with his left one.<br/><br/>He wonders why only at the time of the kill does he feel his heartbeat rise just a little. But why with everything in the span of each boring day, could his thick blood never be excited out of its dull state?<br/><br/>Everyone here is headed in the same predictable path: Finish school, get married, have children, work hard in one company, and retire.<br/>There are no dreams created when everything is so tightly structured and it is so ‘safe’ that only few can talk about anything besides magazines self-help fashion and technological gadgets or the biased news and programs put on television. Who wants to talk about books or about ‘life’ or contributions to people other than themselves?<br/>Certainly, not one who lives within all these rules.<br/><br/>And the people outside of it are deemed ‘strange’,<br/>but aren’t they the ones who can feel passion for something or someone?</p><p>
  <em>They must be the only ones who can ‘feel real’ here in this world.</em>
</p><p><br/>Still, his body feels the impact of using all his power and instead of heading straight back to his office by running from the rooftop of one building to another, he takes the late train. Like any other salaryman, he goes into the sea of black, gray, and navy blue business suits at the late rush hour around 11pm from Shibuya station to get back to Shinjuku, only three stations north on the Yamanote line.<br/><br/>Each time he gets onto the train and stands there like a twisted stone statue, forced into an indescribable mold by the mix of other residents of Tokyo and foreigners, he looks out the window and watches the darkness whir by. It is a time that brings him out of ‘specialness’.<br/>This is what he terms to himself as ‘normalcy’.<br/><br/>He is disappointed that he could never reflect the solid, fluffy snow heart of his mother. Somehow, no matter how much he tried, he could not ever be totally immune…<br/><br/>…that boy was blocking his way to becoming the perfect human: Able to fulfill any obligation, a resource to his society as a thoughtfully quiet servant of his government, and the ability to be strong and unemotional.<br/>In other words, he believed that no matter what he had to do, he couldn’t be hurt by it. He could only get stronger.<br/><br/>The one he called Subaru-kun was the obstacle that he could not strategize through.<br/><br/>Subaru-kun wasn’t a task waiting to be done. He wasn’t a thing easily bought or automatically rewarded after much hard work.<br/>The boy had to be earned through a currency he himself understood, but didn’t know how to use: To Give or To Take.<br/>Just because you knew something didn’t mean experience made it easier or didn’t blind you to what you already knew. It led to two distinct choices: It could set you free or it could trap you.<br/><br/>He still hasn’t consciously chosen which one it is.<br/>He knows the ‘right’ answer. And knows the answer that he wants to really hold onto until the day he dies.<br/><br/>From far away, there is a weak vibration from the emblem of the curse on Subaru’s hand bouncing off his body.<br/><br/>“The next stop is Shinjuku. The exit will be on the left hand side.”<br/>Stepping off onto the platform and out the gate, he passes the row of underground stores in the station. Walking up the stairs, he goes out the glass doors of the central east exit, making his way through the streets lit up by the flashes of neon to his animal clinic.<br/><br/>Passing many drunk people, he finally gets to his office. When he gets to the front door, the phone is ringing. He gives a mock sigh and goes in through the back. Closing off the darkest room with his hands behind him, he locks it along with all the things daylight isn’t allowed to touch.<br/><br/>With his white blouse unbuttoned and untucked and still wearing the pants of his suit, he heads over to the phone in slippers. He crosses his desk and out to the front where the shades are drawn.<br/>And the phone, ten minutes later, is still ringing.</p><p>
  <em>Like a postcard from someone on a day you need it though you may not understand why, why does she always know when to call?</em>
</p><p><br/>Picking up his glasses from the countertop next to the coffee maker, he walks over to the phone. Holding out the receiver towards the door and away from him (learning from past experience that it should not ever EVER be close to his ear when it’s been ringing for that long), there is a loud punch of a scold from the receiver, “Seishirou-san~! HAAAALLO~!”<br/>Never one to make a simple entrance, Hokuto couldn’t ever do anything without attracting attention. Even the phone couldn’t contain just her voice. It had to reflect <em>everything</em>. And she didn’t do it intentionally. It was just a part of her charm.<br/>Seishirou imagines her waving into the phone as if they can see each other. Maybe she can.<br/>Quickly returning the phone to his ear, he smiles a greeting back, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”<br/>“No,” she retorts playfully.<br/>“Are you watching Rebecca videos again?”<br/>“I was suddenly inspired to make an outfit when I was listening to ‘Nervous But Glamourous’.”<br/>“What are you making this time?”<br/>There is a big laugh on the other end of the phone and an energetic answer of, “I’m making something for you!”<br/><br/>Without a doubt, Hokuto’s eyes are sparkling from inspiration and fire.</p><p>
  <em>Where does she get that? To do something with everything of herself, never tiring of it no matter how many times she’s mastered the previous techniques and accomplished many of her ideas into reality?</em>
</p><p><br/>Seishirou is puzzled by this act of generosity but his voice is smooth and sweet like chocolate all the same. “Oh?”<br/><br/>The phrase, “But why?”, refuses to come out of his lips.<br/><br/>“The material is from Komagome. You know, the old woman’s Harajuku? They’ve got wonderful things over there, and this soft piece of material screamed out to me, ‘Make me into something~!’. I touched it and it felt very cheerful though the color’s a bit darker than my tastes run. Then I looked at the owner and said, ‘I’m taking the whole bolt home with me.’<br/>“I stared at it until Subaru came home and when he did, he patted my head to wake me up from my nap because I slept with it draped all over my desk.”<br/>He listens attentively while pouring the crushed beans into the filter of the coffee maker. Although Seishirou wonders about many things, he is good at answering in questions but not asking important ones.<br/><br/>Listening to Hokuto is both amusing and irenic.<br/><br/>“…and the funny thing is that Subaru just looked at it and said matter-of-factly, ‘It says it would be something for Seishirou-san, not the two of us.’ Then, I said something like ‘You really think too much of your boyfriend’. He was so cute when he protested (imitating Subaru-kun), ‘He is not my boyfriend and the bolt of material said so when I asked it.’<br/>I was really evil and poked him while asking why he was turning red. (Imitating Subaru again) ‘Because…you…’ Then, he mumbled something incomprehensible and had this pouty face that just enticed me even more.”<br/><br/>She takes a deep breath. “And with that,” in a decisive, hard tone, “you get this bolt. Whatever I make from it.”<br/><br/>He feels her nod proudly to herself.<br/><br/>Seishirou closes his eyes and sits down after pouring water into the coffee maker. Slowly, yet as best as he could, tells her, “Thank you for thinking of me.”<br/>Hokuto is silent for a happy moment and then she cunningly instructs, “So, here’s your chance when I send him over to get your measurements, OKAY?!”<br/>“Actually, I-“<br/>“This is not a choice,” she says sweetly and in the next moment changes into a threatening tone, “It is an ORDER, Seiii-chan~!”<br/>Changing back to normal, she finishes, “Bye-bye~!”<br/><br/>Now, the dial tone is all he can hear next to his ear.<br/><br/>But when he puts the phone down, he is silent again. All emotion on his face is wiped away like a whiteboard erased of its marker writings. Unlocking the front door, he glances at the coffee pot. The coffee is still brewing and he goes to his desk to write in his notebook about completing today’s job.<br/><br/>He knows Subaru will come through the door soon, but he doesn’t speed through his routine. He doesn’t like to be rushed.<br/><br/>Meticulous and concentrated on his writing, he doesn’t notice that the coffee maker beeped and the bells of the shop are now chiming.<br/><br/>Coming in after a light, uncertain knock on the door, the boy opens the white wooden door. He anxiously steps through the threshold in a form-fitting coat that looks like the color of the dark-blue and green of the ocean. Its sleeves go a little past his skinny elbows and the length of half of his thighs. It is only snapped on in three places over his body, still showing his white cotton shirt and jeans.<br/>His right glove lets go of the door as he pushes it back with a click. Then, he glances at the [Open] sign, which he wants to believe he can really come in. For, just because someone says that you can doesn’t actually mean that sometimes. Literally, figuratively, and lyrically, it is a message and interpretation mixed with cordial societal code.<br/><br/>Subaru calls out into the grayness. The commonness of all his actions seem calm on the outside, but inside he is racing from place to place with his schedule telling him that the clock is ticking as well as the vibrating pager that is always ready to tell him that he has to answer NOW. He reaches into his pocket and holds onto the faxed map tightly to make the paper crispy and uneven. Crinkling and abused inside his pocket as a ready excuse to run at anytime, he gulps.<br/>He shouldn’t have come. Seishirou isn’t here after all. No one is answering his greeting.</p><p>
  <em>Everything always tells me I should have just left things alone. I didn’t need anything more and my shyness mixed with self-respect and pride made this simple task so excruciating! The unnecessary anxiety always keeps me up at night more than all the other things inside of my head.</em>
</p><p><br/>He takes off his shoes and puts on the pink bunny slippers Hokuto put at the side for his use. Subaru suddenly jumps when he hears a chair in the back move. It sends a shiver down his spine.<br/>Without any people, the clinic is simultaneously eerie and peaceful. But Subaru is so nervous that he can’t remember if he already said a polite hello. Maybe he murmured something without thinking from all the things already in his head. To think and to speak are two very different things in the world. You could think obsessively over a task, a regret, or a person and the end result wouldn’t mean anything because you would just do one ‘task’ or ‘action’ that accumulated and resulted from overthinking. Sometimes, it is contradictory to what you actually feel.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Was it being polite or was it selfishness?<br/>Could it possibly be both?</em>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Subaru.”</p><p>
  <em>It is my name. It isn’t said in affection, but in a statement. It is to acknowledge my presence, but it doesn’t mean anything ‘soft’ or deluding to ‘attachment’. It is just my name.</em>
</p><p><br/>And so, Subaru makes it to the hall-made-into-an-office with the florescent light shining over Seishirou and his desk. It is a place Subaru has been forbidden to go into for all this time, for all these months they’d known each other. It seems ridiculous since he’d come here almost (if not) everyday of his life since that day they were in Ikebukuro and Subaru landed flat on his face in embarrassment on the station platform. (How wonderful for good impressions!) But it was the first time he’d met someone because of something so human, it almost appeared mundane.<br/><br/>A memory that lasted only five seconds in a lifespan of sixteen years was the start of tiny shards of happiness…<br/><br/>Subaru stands there admiring Seishirou with a soft smile on his lips. Like a painting, perfect in structure and scene, he doesn’t want to disturb it. He likes Seishirou like this, with his lab coat off and his hair somewhat messy in an attractive way.<br/>Whenever Seishirou is hunched over his desk writing and writing, Seishirou is not smiling, but serious and composed. This face, unlike the rest of the time when those sharp, observant amber eyes faced him, doesn’t know all the answers.<br/><br/>They are searching for them.<br/><br/>Since Seishirou doesn’t turn or make any gesture towards him, Subaru is confused if he noticed that he was even there. A small heartache erupts. Maybe deep inside, he always wants Seishirou to be focused entirely on him.<br/><br/>Whenever Seishirou writes, he is so absorbed and Subaru always thinks the vet takes for granted that he’ll be ‘there’. It is always the timing that is off…<br/><br/>But today, as soon as the teenage boy’s eyes notice the rumpled shirt and a pair of black pants he’s never seen before, Seishirou’s swivel chair unexpectedly faces towards him.<br/>Seishirou leans back and breathes in very slowly, never letting go of the lock on those emerald eyes. He tilts his head to his right, balancing his head on his index right finger against his temple. His left hand holds onto the arm of the chair.<br/><br/>The scene: Void of light from the outside.<br/>Deep inside this hallway, there is no sense of time from the outside.<br/><br/>It is so unlike a train in Tokyo…</p><p>
  <em>Fascinating.</em>
</p><p><br/>Subaru wants to turn his face away, but his mouth opens a little, unable to say anything. His eyes just blink beautifully.<br/><br/>Seishirou, in this new position, sits expressionless and yet like an art piece on display. He gathers an expression: Powerful and charismatic, yet vulnerable at being touched.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Would it make you real if you breathed? Would you bleed if I clasped my hand over you heart?</em>
</p><p><br/>The usual smiling face that greets Subaru is so stern. He doesn’t think it is possible for placidness to ever change, but people are wonderful in their ability to always keep one guessing.</p><p>
  <em>But which one are you?<br/>I’d gone through the many pictures and sculptures in my head.<br/>Would I someday resign myself to the same fate?<br/>Would I be the one sitting in your chair someday?</em>
</p><p><br/>Waiting. Moving.<br/>Unmoved. Apathetic.<br/>Change.<br/><br/>Suddenly, Seishirou’s eyes look deeply into Subaru as if he finally realizes that he is physically there in front of him.<br/><br/>Though Subaru doesn’t show it, the boy is clearly perplexed. He wonders what Seishirou thinks about whenever he writes his notes.<br/><br/>On what? Why? Where?<br/>With whom in mind?<br/><br/>And why are they out as if he wants to be caught by Subaru alone?<br/><br/>Seishirou is about to lift up the corners of his mouth as he usually does, but Subaru walks over, looking away with all his strength. They cannot see eye-to-eye now.<br/>His whole body is beating wildly and he knows he made the excuse of coming here to take Seishirou’s measurements…<br/><br/>…but he knew. Somehow, he knew that Seishirou, who would never ask for anything, was strongly calling out to him today.<br/><br/>On this night, he didn’t expect to see a Seishirou that knew everything, a face that could solve every problem.<br/><br/>Subaru, though he doesn’t entirely truly understand, comes over to Seishirou and leans forward to hug him with both of his arms around his neck. He holds on quietly and with all of his shaking self.<br/>Seishirou’s body does not react. He doesn’t move at all. Disappointingly, his blood remains as thick as ever.</p><p>
  <em>I didn’t expect you to return my love as you say you do. Even though you act so kind, there is always something that blocks you from me and not me from getting to you. You are really stubborn, Seishirou-san.<br/>But I believe it is possible that when you are truly connected to someone, you can feel their presence. You don’t have to understand someone’s words, thoughts, or logic.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just their underlying feelings.<br/>That should be enough.<br/><br/>As long as it endures anything, that is all I ask of you,<br/>even though I can’t tell you so.<br/>It is selfish and<br/>I couldn’t ever ask you to<br/>choose me over yourself.</em>
</p><p><br/>After what seems like forever, Seishirou uncrosses his legs and Subaru stands up, still in front of him and not turning away to leave. Seishirou looks up, but his unfeeling eyes don’t change. His hands say everything…<br/><br/>Holding out his arms to hug the back of Subaru’s thin waist, Seishirou pulls him closer and pushes his head onto Subaru’s stomach. Crossing his arms and leaning them on Seishirou’s shoulders, Subaru crouches over his head possessively, feeling the hair of his head on his gloved fingertips.<br/><br/>“I don’t understand you. I don’t know where you go when I don’t see you and I don’t know what you do. But I do know one thing when you are facing me. I know you won’t initiate anything ‘real’ because you care about my feelings,” Subaru whispers soothingly. “Unless I do something, you won’t react to me.”<br/><br/>“So you’re trying to say is that you’ll run away with me one day?” Seishirou jokes though he closed his eyes tightly and his tone is just as jolly as ever, always perfect to his role as Grinning Vet.<br/><br/>Subaru replies in a flustered way, “No, of course not, Seishirou-san.”<br/>He smiles and impulsively, but slowly kisses him at the top of his head. His cheeks turned red and his head is becoming dizzy, but it was the first time Seishirou ever answered him honestly.<br/>He can just feel it as so.<br/><br/>“I’ve always wanted to ask you. How can you smile like that Subaru-kun? Like you don’t know about demons and lingering feelings inside of the things and people you visit in your job every day. Why do you still smile like it won’t hurt you?”<br/>“When I’m alone, I do. I cry a lot but I won’t ever show that kind of thing to people because they already know sadness. They don’t know how to look for happiness.”<br/><br/>In a lower tone and just as thoughtful, Subaru continues, “That’s why I can cry in front of you. I never did in front of anyone, not even Hokuto-chan.<br/>“I can be myself around you and I never knew what that was until you forced me to see myself as I was. And am.”<br/><br/>Subaru begins to feel sleepier and sleepier and Seishirou’s head hangs with his arms still clutching onto the boy’s waist, pressing his head more into the skin of his stomach.<br/><br/>“Even though you confuse me, and torture me with how much I can think about you, I am comfortable around you. If I didn’t do something extreme like my job, sifting through the wheat of our Babylon, I wouldn’t have met you.”<br/>“I am happy with you, Seishirou-san...” his voice trails off.<br/><br/>“…whomever you are. I’ll always find You.”<br/><br/>Subaru’s grip loosens.<br/><br/>Their time is up.<br/><br/>“I…” Seishirou’s mouth moves but soundlessly says, “This is the first time I was glad to exist here.”</p><p>
  <em>Somehow, you have always known about me…<br/>…but why do you never question me and accept everything with all your trust?</em>
</p><p><br/>His heart beats faster for just a little for a few minutes.<br/><br/>Seishirou won’t let go of the moment until he hears the city waking up around them…<br/>He holds onto Subaru with his open arms, with a composed face, with a lowered head staring at the sleeping body in his lap.<br/><br/><strong>+/+/+/+/+/+/+/</strong><br/><br/>Weeks later, Hokuto asks why Seishirou never wears his new gift and he says he wants to keep it in pristine condition. But when the night comes, he pulls the long, soft, charcoal overcoat from the closet and slips it off its special wooden hanger. He looks at the silver mechanical bat wings imprinted to the inseam of the back of the coat, but there is no indication of such a design on the outside when he puts it on and checks himself in the mirror.<br/><br/>Then, with his briefcase, shades, and gloves, he proudly displays himself with this coat that he’ll wear until the day he dies…<br/><br/>Coming home from work, Subaru is delighted at the chance to see Seishirou going out of his front door.<br/>“Seishirou-san…” Subaru’s yearning voice whispers with a wide smile at seeing that Seishirou’s wearing the new coat.<br/>“I’m going to a dinner today.” Seishirou winks.<br/>“Oh.” Subaru comes over to fix his collar. “So that you look presentable.”<br/><br/>Seishirou turns his head and nods a goodbye. Subaru’s face becomes confused again but he tries to think the best with that grin in front of him.<br/>As Subaru goes inside his apartment, Seishirou turns around to look at Subaru’s profile and frowns for a second, but he doesn’t feel himself do so. Then, Seishirou heads off to ‘work’.</p><p>
  <em>When was it?<br/>When did I start to feel you in return?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When did I start to know where you were all the time?<br/>Why do I leave you so many clues to catch me with my bloody hands?</em>
</p><p><br/>As he drives his hand into another would-be corpse, he thinks of Mother’s grief-stricken face, the first and last he’d ever seen that calm face lose its mask when she taught him to kill himself,<br/><br/>Her voice trembled. “Oh, Seishirou-san…”<br/>But she lost the ability to weep with her eyes.</p><p>
  <em>When did I know I could never have the chance to be perfect again?<br/><br/>When did things start to feel ‘real’ again?</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <strong>Owari.<br/></strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What I wanted to do was to mold something from just staring at a blank computer screen. Then, things flowed naturally out into my typing. I wanted to pay attention to minute details in a dynamic, yet simple life scene.</p><p>Thank you very, very much for reading!</p><p>With much love,<br/>Yui</p></blockquote></div></div>
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